Machine Poems

Machine poems bring the best collection of short and long machine poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great machine rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these machine poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on machine are here for you.

Is man standing? Heart throbs. Is man squatting? Heart pulsates. Is man on his knees? Heart beats, even when posture affects the heart- its rhythms never end. In humor heart goes back and forth, in glumness it thrums, in sullenness

I’ve become aware I can time-travel, particle-physics has long posited this, Stephen Hawking admits it’s possible, even likely. It starts out this way, drowsing on my front room sofa TV tuned down, & in just a moment an hour and

Larger than can be contemplated. Older than can be grasped. Encompassing everything. Movements that cannot be understood. The machine controls all. What we, mere specks call the universe. The unfathomable, beyond our comprehension. This machine, but one in an infinite

Vehicle we run , to lesson our strain strain we feel when vehicle gives trouble trouble we take but blame the vehicle for its brake down Breakdown we experience when vehicle is set for major repair Major repair we get

Once upon a day I encountered a machine capable of the most exquisite, subtle and profound expression of feeling, While its cogs and wheels turned coldly and mutely, with no heart, thought or feeling of their own. A sign on

I dread the weight machine That horrible, putrid little thing It tells me lies that shatter me Clasping my throat that I can’t breathe Every time I step onto its platform The spring beneath contorts in pain It bends its

Looking back, At the times we left behind, I always wish, I would never have been so blind… The smile I carried, Which I brought upon your face, We didn’t know the importance, We walked a slow pace. A land

July 28, 2017

Poems you will love

The Universe is a machine. It’s a machine that creates. It has the raw materials in the elements. It has energy sources in the stars and it has the software in mathematics. It takes these things and creates life. Through

Magnificent silver space suit please; as I journey to a cosmic galaxy full of extraordinary things, Floating endlessly in a kaleidoscopic machine; the void of space is insignificant when light beams, A field of planets to watch as the spaceship

Happiness; It surfaces daily, in no definite forms. A kind act, a warm touch, A gurgling child, a day without qualms! A satisfying meal, a coffee past din, A melody that touches the core, A distant voice of a close

The whistle blows to sound the charge and over the top they bustle and barge, covered from head to toe in mud and soon tainted with flesh and blood. Up the ladder with slippery rungs, a scream of rage from

You don’t need a time machine, only your memories, they can take you back in time, connected more than any rhyme, you don’t need a time machine, only your memories, they can take you any where, into hope or in

Like city wall that blocks off invaders, so is the skin which covers the body from head top to the sole of the foot. A wall that protects the body against known and un-known enemies, a drain pipe that discharges

Though I belong to the Middle class possessing hardly any liquid cash thought of invalid notes sent shiver in my spines Losing the currency in one stroke set a psychological upheaval in my mind Thoughts of whether I really had

This precious leafy lettuce green is much less known than others, but beats them all by very far, for all the field it covers; Its greatest use turns out to be, a must for one good salad, and praises for

Naked in shade, feet tough as alligators even to the steel-belted shreds flicking at weed-tips, the male body knows little peace: it is either a machine for cocking and throwing, heaving emblem of a beast or a tub of sourdough

Been born three months when Kennedy got shot Didn’t really recognize the significance From the comfort of my cot Didn’t know Vietnam was such a brouhaha Or that the world would not be at peace For at any one time

5am, the vending machine rattles, groans, collapses Violently, I kick it, yell at it, shake it The green tea can is grinning at me, mocking me. A passerby opens his fresh can of beer he sees me desperate for a

The ants are at the banana in advance of the beneficence of the sun a brown on brown crime as three tribes have extended hungry mandible-tipped spears to carry back the rich flesh within the maws of their concrete oases

From inner room to open field, from kitchen countertop to office desk, her travails remain the same. Everyday she tells stories that draws tears from hearers’ eyes, unceasingly, stories that elicit sympathy-she relates to her listeners; beyond description account on

four poems on the nightstand written on cigarette paper they could be linked together into a manifesto with patience with skill and a fingernail of spit all the things you thought about me you were never shy about dishing out

Interpreter, simply the translator machine in between two The only language air carry Those words flow from one Blow to another But sometimes The words waving in between vanishes its meaning Trust changes into rust Friends convert into fiend Life

Mrs Murphy stares blankly out through the backyard door The pigeon coop stands open since her children went to war Pals and chums filled the streets from Old Swan to the Albert docks The sons of the Liverbird leaving in

I will sit or lay. Not in sadness or tears, you don’t understand. I’m in-between everything. That time I starred at that horse. I wanted to be it so much. Its pensive eyes knew I was not worth a glance.

For the precious ones pride in the head flesh in a skull wish in the blood a curly swag a diamond scud a cunning smile I wish and will to compromise my recon time plan perceptional introversy mental controversy united

If Hope is the thing with feathers, perhaps Life is that stony thing, that stony Enigma. If someday, somehow, somewhere, I catch some glimpses of what makes a heart, a stone, and what makes a stone, watery before someone dies…

the devil is a trickster can’t find him in Twisted Sister sorry that I missed her aim to fame was through the flames eating Cheetos got your juice frozen got thoughts of the ocean sifting through the latest trends some

She’ll only dance as long as you don’t watch her a heavenly symmetry in the distance between elbows, knees. Gravity is only a suggestion while she progresses through nameless steps, her unplucked body stepping across thresholds billions of sisters have

Listening to nothing in my ribcage I see the void growing deep within Playing catch with blame and misery I bleed sense unto past memories. I am machine a part of me is a soldier enlisted to serve broken dreams.

Himalayas, Eiffel tower, water-falls At Nile, the seven geographical And constructive wonders, We had in our childhood texts, Not wonders, they are; just big things; Mountains, water-falls, Eiffel tower, And Great Wall, be erected, more lively; Let it interact with

They say, “You miss someone when you lose that one”; I’ve lost some electricity this morning, and I already miss my hot shower. The washing machine just forgot her daily round, while the purifier has peed not in his earthen

The world is a nasty-looking fruit, With a skin made of TV screens, Of omnipotent mouths spitting out hate. Through your ears and eyes, they always creep in. But there’s a way to survive, a way to tread evil’s waters.

Never, in all the pointless days I have worked here Has the air ever been so dull and depressing It tasted warm and metallicdisstopea But not in a good way I turned up early this morning I mean, I hate

The meaning of life? This question has been asked for millennia. Some say there is no meaning, life is just a placeholder between oblivions. Others say God breathes life into man for a greater purpose, intimately meaningful. For some, born

A traveler from an antique land Journeys through blistering, dry heat Across oceans of sand and rock Once well trampled by human feet. Hear the long roar of his mount, Power building in its steel lungs, Belching fire and CO2

My better half in life alias wife lay tired & fatigued while toiling at the house chores for days & months I could see her charm gradually dwindling her anger terribly rising by leaps & bounds I got worried and

Kick stand up at eight, two lane west to set me free Throttle through the gears, now it’s just Ester and me Relax down into the machine, the breeze blowing across my face Worry and troubles disappear, my mind is